The document translated below is a will written by cAbbās Mīrzā, the Heir Apparent, in July, 1830, three years before his death in Khurasan. This will is important because of its style and content. Written in a hasty manner, and originally in Persian, in some places it gives the impression of having been translated from Āzarī Turkish. The author has paid little attention to grammatical rules and literary embellishments. The force of the document derives from the author's deep feelings of hope (for future military success), sorrow (for past defeats), and uncertainty and worry (for the destiny of his children). References are made to the political events and personalities of the times, not directly, but in connection with the author's personal concerns. On the whole, cAbbās Mīrzā's major preoccupations in this document are to justify past errors, to be buried as a man of God, and to be remembered as a national hero.

Throughout the nineteenth century, the Qajar dynasty (1797–1925) of Iran engaged in a continuous process to build a regular army under the leadership and tutelage of professional European military missions. These continuous attempts at military reform and Europeanization reached a peak with the creation of the Persian Cossack Brigade (1879–1921) by the Russian military mission. This article focuses on the genesis of the Brigade and the Russian military mission, which followed some of the previously unsuccessful European military missions. The scholarly literature has paid little attention to the fitful beginnings of the Brigade. This article, however, deals with the early challenges faced by the Brigade during the period between 1879 and 1894, at the end of which it was on the verge of dissolution. The article tackles formative issues raised in under-explored Russian archival material and supplemented by Russian-language primary sources, as well as other relevant sources. It attempts to re-evaluate the origins of the Persian Cossack Brigade and provide a well-balanced portrait of the Brigade in light of the changing regional politics of the period.

This article explores Salāmān va Absāl, one of seven poems which comprise Jāmī's collection of long masnavīs, known collectively as the Haft aurang. The work, which gained some renown outside Iran due to the English version of Edward FitzGerald, has nevertheless received little attention in modern scholarship. The few investigations of Salāmān va Absāl, moreover, have dwelled on its narrative, which tells the story of the carnal attraction of a prince for his wet-nurse, and never situated the work in its historical context or examined its political content. In addition, the allegorical symbolism of the tale, especially its depiction of key stages of the Sufi path, such as the act of repentance, has not been discussed in terms of representing a work of mystical advice. With these concerns in mind, the present article discusses the possibility that the political elements in Salāmān va Absāl complement the advice it gives on becoming a Sufi. Seen from this perspective, it would appear that Salāmān va Absāl correlates the notion of the just ruler to the Sufi concept of the “Perfect Man” to the extent that Jāmī presents the Sufi-king as the ideal medieval Islamic ruler. By implication, the work advises its royal patron, Sultān Ya‘qūb, to repent and embark upon the Sufi path, doing so, Jāmī intimates, would lead Ya‘qūb to realize his rank as God's “true” vicegerent.

The Iranian Green Movement emerged after the presidential election in June 2009. The paper tracks down its foundational origins through the concept of ‘fragmented collective action’, that points to the dispersion of a social movement's political energies and the fragmentation of its constitutive groups. It also addresses the significance of informal mobilizing networks and the widespread use of modern virtual space to bring together an intersubjectively constructed collective identity which was shaped by the movement’s interactions with political forces and with its interlocutors. Finally, the paper argues that the collective identity shaped the movement's strategies over the course of its evolution.

In Iran, ancient mythical elements are very much alive in the present as a part of the fabric of ordinary people's lives and worldview. This paper explores the relationship between culture, myth, and artistic production in contemporary Iran, using the specific examples of symbols and mythological themes evoked in the work of painter/writer Aydin Aghdashloo and photographer/video artist Shirin Neshat. The paintings of Aghdashloo, in which he deliberately damages beautifully-executed classical style Persian miniatures, convey a sense that the angelic forces have failed and that the world is succumbing to the destructive and degenerative activities of the demonic. The photographs, videos and installations of Neshat likewise draw heavily on cultic forms inherited from ancient Iranian tradition. It is important to note that in none of these cases does the artist use mythological themes and symbols to express their original cultural meaning; rather, they appropriate well-known elements of ancient Iranian culture and imbue them with new meanings relevant to contemporary issues and understandings. What these examples do illustrate is the persistent resonance of ancient Iranian culture among Iranians up to the present day. Iranian artists have demonstrated the effectiveness of evoking their target audience's deep sense of cultural identity to convey contemporary messages using ancient cultural concepts, sometimes on a subconscious level.

During the years of the constitutional revolution and the Great War, Iran experienced a widespread and general reassertion of tribal power and by 1921 much of the country was under tribal control. Riza Khan's seizure of power, however, inaugurated a transformation in the relationship between the center and periphery in Iran. For the new regime and for the nationalist elite which supported it, the suppression of the tribes was an indispensable element of their larger project: the construction of a modern, centralized state, with a culturally homogeneous population. Their agenda was clear: the destruction of the autonomy and feudal authority of the tribal leaderships was to be closely followed by the subjection of the tribal populations to the unmediated power of the modernized state and their integration into settled society. From the very moment of seizing power in Tehran, the new regime embarked on a sustained effort to establish its military and administrative hegemony over the tribes.

As everyone knows, alcoholic drinks, including wine, are forbidden by Islam. Readers of Persian poetry often wonder how is it possible that Persian wine literature is one of the richest in the world and whether the poets and authors ever address the illicitness of the wine in their works. This article examines how one author, Zangī Bukhārī, presents a catalogue of positive and negative qualities of wine in his Gul u mul (“The Rose and the Wine”). Through the genre of debate (munāzara), he shows how a courtly audience may have tried to justify the drinking of wine. The article examines the formal generic characteristics of such debates, showing how the form of the debate is rather appropriate to let forbidden objects or ideas, in this case the wine, speak for themselves thus defending their position in an Islamic society. entertaining in is richness in metaphors and imagery used by the wine and the rose to voice their superiority to each other, but it also addresses a rather controversial topic in an uncontroversial style.

Mehdi Qoli Hedayat, Mokhber al-Saltaneh, was born in 1863 into an aristocratic family in Tehran. He was the son of Ali Qoli Khan, Mokhber al-Dowleh, the pioneer in Iranian telegraphy, and the grandson of Reza Qoli Khan Hedayat, the famous historian and teacher of the Qajar period.

Mehdi Qoli went to school at age seven. At fourteen he was sent, in the company of his brother, Morteza Qoli (Sane ‘ al-Dowleh), to study in Germany. His stay lasted a little more than two months. He had intended to study medicine but returned home with his brother when their sister died. Feeling nostalgic for home, he did not heed his father's advice to stay and study. Later, reflecting on this decision, he said, "Alas, that if I had studied medicine I would be a free man and, now, I am bound, bound to a people...." Thus, Mehdi Qoli's education in Europe was limited to learning the German language and sightseeing in Germany and Switzerland.

A bureaucrat and historian of Iranian origin, Idris-i Bidlisi (b. Ray/Iran 1457–d. Istanbul 1520), is undoubtedly one of the most original and important intellectual figures in the Ottoman‒Iranian borderland in the sixteenth century. He lived in a very turbulent period and established different relationships with Iranian and Ottoman dynasties at the end of the fifteenth century and at the beginning of the sixteenth century. He and his works have been the focus of long-standing historical debates in Turkey that have continued to the present day. Until now, most modern scholarly works on Bidlisi have failed to provide a proper, in-depth textual and historical analysis. As a result, such modern works have come to present a skewed, romanticized image of Bidlisi, largely detached from the nature and dynamics of the historical context in which Bidlisi lived and evolved as an intellectual and writer. This paper provides a realistic appraisal of Bidlisi and discusses the shortcomings of modern historiography on him. By looking at Bidlisi and his corpus, and more specifically at the ways in which the latter was shaped by Bidlisi’s patronage relationships, the paper aims to open up a window into Bidlisi’s evolving mindset and worldview. In other words, through an in-depth analysis of his corpus and new archival sources the paper strives to unveil the intellectual life and career of an Iranian bureaucrat and historian positioned between Ottoman‒Iranian borderland and provide a glimpse into the nature of patronage in the sixteenth century.

After the Recent Work of Merguerian and Najmabadi, Najmabadi, and Milani (in this volume), it can be little surprise that the topic of women's tricks (makr-i zan) is explicit and pervasive in traditional oral narrative in Persian-speaking communities. In afsānah or fictional folktales, makr-i zan serves as a generic title for a large, but shifting, corpus of individual tales which are perceived by their tellers as primarily concerned with the topos (though the tales may be otherwise identified or characterized by other sources, including literary ones). Indeed, from the general perspective of a strongly patriarchal popular ideology which promotes male authority over female action, any and all female-initiated action (“female agency”) may be construed, explicitly or implicitly, as subversive of the ideal order of patriarchy. While the female actor and female agency are marked as “other” (than ideal) by the topos (or stereotype), women as well as men perform tales about makr-i zan. This paper begins the task of sorting out perspectives on this “otherness” and agency as reflected in the repertoires of various male and female traditional storytellers, in individual oral performances in which makr-i zan are central.

Shortly after the year 1000, Abū Nuᶜaym al-Iṣfahānī (948-1037), the author of a historical study about his hometown, called a ten volume work on Muslim hagiography with a poignant title, Ḥilyat al-auliyā, “The Ornament of the Saints.” At that moment, the learned and pious author, grandson of a noted aesthetic, could scarcely foresee that Iran would indeed deserve the epithet of being “decorated by saints” during the centuries to come even more than before Abū Nuᶜaym's lifetime. Therefore, it seems not improper to take this charming title as a starting point for some deliberations about the religious situation in early Muslim Iran.

Abū Nuᶜaym was one of the numerous disciples of Ibn Khafīf, the great saint of Fars who died, a centenarian, in 982 in his hometown Shiraz. We may single out this mystic for our purpose to give a short survey of pre-Safavid religious life in Iran.

Drawing on a rich tradition of anacreontic poetry and taking inspiration from works by Nizāmī and Hāfiz, the sāqī-nāma or “cupbearer's song” emerged as an independent genre in the early sixteenth century and flourished throughout the Persian literary world for the next 250 years. Looking back on the development of the genre, the early seventeenth-century literary historians ‘Abd al-Nabī Qazvīnī and Awhadī Balyānī give contrasting accounts of its formation, but both agree on the significance of the work of Hakīm Partuvī Shīrāzī (d. 928/1520–21). An examination of his sāqī-nāma, together with two other early representatives of the genre by Sidqī Astarābādī (d. 952/1545) and Sharaf Jahān Qazvīnī (d. 968/1561), shows how closely this new genre was tied to the politics and ideology of the new Safavid state and reveals profound structural similarities to the preeminent panegyric genre of the Islamicate world, the qasīda. But once the basic components of the sāqī-nāmā were distilled and taken up by poets outside this socio-political environment, the genre proved to be as protean as the wine symbolism at its core. Cupbearer songs from the end of the century, particularly those of Muhammad Sūfī Māzandarānī (d. 1035/1625–26) and Sanjar Kāshānī (d. 1021/1612), show how the basic elements of the genre could be reconfigured to serve a variety of more personal interests.

Yesterdays they changed my room. Am I completely cured now? Will I be free to leave next week as the superintendent promised? Have I been sick at all? For one year, they wouldn't give me a pen and paper which I wanted more than anything else. I always thought about the many things I would write once they gave me a pen and paper. Yesterday, without asking, they brought me paper and a pen...something I longed for so much...something I waited for so long. But what's the use? Since yesterday, I have been able to write nothing, no matter how hard I try. It's as though someone were holding me back, as though my arm were paralysed. Now, as I read over the garbled lines which are etched into the paper, the only words I can make out are... “three drops of blood.”

Having lost Transcaucasia to the Russians some one-hundred-and-fifty years ago, Persian scholars have ignored the history of this region which once was a part of Iran under the Qajars. Russian and Armenian sources, although numerous, have tended to emphasize Russian rule in the area. They have also failed to utilize primary sources, such as those in archives, have neglected to record the favorable aspects, and instead have concentrated on a blanket condemnation of Persian rule in the Caucasus. Although it is true that Muslim rule, especially in the Qajar era, was particularly oppressive towards the Christian population of Transcaucasia, some bright moments did exist. This study, based on primary and archival sources, focuses on one such period in a specific area: the governorship of Ḥusayn Qulī Khān Qazvinī in the Khanate of Erevan (Eastern Armenia) during the first quarter of the nineteenth century. Before discussing the khān's twenty-year tenure in Erevan, a biographical and historical sketch is in order.

The argument proposed by Professor Leonard M. Helfgott in a recent article in Iranian Studies (Vol. X, Nos.1-2, 1977) cannot be accepted as an accurate evaluation of the social and economic structure of tribalism in Iran. The picture presented in his article portrays the situation almost solely in terms of theoretical considerations, with relatively little attempt to substantiate the theories with fact. As a result, a monolithic view of tribal society is put forth. The most objectionable theoretical approach proffered in his article is expressed in the following statement: “Tribal societies contain neither a concrete superstructural entity such as the state nor a separate economic sphere….But that is not to say that these functions do not exist or are not necessary for the production of pre-state societies. Rather superstructural functions appear as embedded within the kinship system.” Traditionally, tribes throughout Iranian history existed above and beyond the reach of the various kinship entities that they governed or controlled; indeed, they provided formal superstructures by which they exploited the various sources of wealth, and maintained order.

Rustam's Origins are Certainly Complex, Multilayered, and it Would seem only partly Iranian. His legend itself indicates this; his mother is a foreigner living in Kabul and descended from Zahhak, so that both Sudabah and Isfandiyar are able to refer to him as demon-born, (dīv-zād). Mehrdad Bahar has concluded that much of his legend is Saka, or Scythian, and that it also has strong parallels and probable connections with that of Indra, the Vedic god of war. His integration into Iranian national history as its defender and savior betrays some strains: he is Iran's greatest champion but he enjoys very uneasy relations with some of Iran's kings (notably Kavus and Gushtasp), his sons Suhrab and Faramarz each launch independent attacks against the Iranian court, and his own last battle is against the crown prince of Iran whom he kills. Half foreigner, with a partially demonic ancestry, a man who kills the nation's heir apparent and whose sons declare war on two different Iranian royal families—these are troubling attributes for an ethnic hero, and point to some ambiguity in the evolution of his legend.